Young Lady Stark
by ar-men15
Summary: Arya closed the door of Bran's study at the top of the main tower with a loud sound and stood in the middle of the large semi circular room, full of light from the tall windows. Bran's compulsive reading habitudes were hard on his sight, despite his young age he was already forced to use glasses for his eyes. Her brother's wheelchair was under the window, he was holding a book, le


Arya closed the door of Bran's study at the top of the main tower with a loud sound and stood in the middle of the large semi circular room, full of light from the tall windows. Bran's compulsive reading habitudes were hard on his sight, despite his young age he was already forced to use glasses for his eyes.  
Her brother's wheelchair was under the window, he was holding a book, letters and sheets in his lap.  
Bran lifted his head, surprised to see his sister so early in the afternoon, a time she reserved for sword dancing. Never miss a training, she repeated always.  
"Arya! Do you need me?"  
"Of course, brother, you don't have to ask."  
"I can foresee things, read minds, it don't mean I cannot have a normal conversation with words."  
Arya laughed and sat on the armchair at Bran's work desk, the one with a soft comfortable cushion, crossing her breech-covered legs over an armpit, her boots dirty with mud.  
Nobody had been able to make her use a proper feminine dress; she refused to wear it also on that day under the Godswood.  
She was playing with a letter opener from the desk, like it was Needle.  
"You already know why I'm here for."  
Bran's eyes crossed for a second, then closed and he sighed: the sentimental life of his siblings was complicated, a constant source of worry for him.  
Jon - he still loved his cousin like a brother - tethered between celibacy and the idea to marry his aunt Deanerys  
Sansa and Tyrion were travelling for the third time after becoming again – and this time for real – husband and Queen; they were disgustingly sweet, like honey syrup, when at home.  
Arya divided her life between two castles - having to act at regent queen when Sansa was away – and she wore a new ring and sometimes a new face.  
"You wonder who of your two men will father your child next year."  
Since he described her the vision of her future child, her curiosity had tormented him.  
"Bran, we already discussed my lovers. I need them both. Now I have to know. Gendry needs a male heir for the title, Jaqen hopes for a girl to train. He already bought a mini dagger. And it will be a child only, you told me."  
"It's a mess, sister." The three eyed raven was deadly serious.  
Arya had been terrified at the idea of becoming a mare for a husband that she asked Bran's help before even considering Gendry's proposal. And she delayed the marriage for more than four years, with every possible excuse; one of the longest bethrotal of the century.  
But it was better to marry Gendry, who adored her, than another lord she'd have to kill too soon: she could not stir another war, aunt Lyanna's lesson was enough.  
"If you were a man and Gendry and Jaqen your wife and mistress all would be simpler. Everyone would know who the father were. But no, Arya Stark must do things her way and everyone follows."  
"To be honest, Jaqen is no one. So I have a husband and .. no one else."  
"Do they know? I mean that they share your .. affection?"  
"Sure, it was my condition since the beginning. They both love me so they agreed, better sharing me than nothing at all. Or, as Jaqen says, a girl has more boldness than sense. Gendry is coming here and we'll go back to Storm's end in two moons, so if I get with child while I've got both of them I need an answer."  
"The child's hair would tell you who the father is? Or Sansa's red would water the certainty? You can avoid one of their beds for a while, if you have a preference."  
"They share, but there's a silent race between them, whose seed will win."  
"Baratheon's strong."  
"H'ghar's faster. Maybe smarter. And with them I got the best sex of my life."  
Bran sighed, murmured a prayer to all the Gods, old and news, then rolled back his eyes and concentrated; colours, images, sounds, the vision was coming out of the fog until he saw: a small child with red hair but for a streak of white, chasing a dog with an older boy with slick black hair, laughs from the children, the dog retrieving them a stick.  
He squeezed his eyes harder and tried again. Two children? He was so sure, the first time, why the vision changed? He forced harder his mind's eye.  
"Bran Stark, are you here?"  
He heard a female voice calling his name, felt velvets and silk dark hair.  
"Who are you?"  
"For all the ravens, you seem stubborn today. I'm Melisandre."  
The witch, another mind reader he met only once in flesh and blood, more times in soul.  
"I'm confused, who are the children? There must be only one."  
"Gendry's son. And Arya's other one."  
"The hair didn't match!"  
"Clever raven you are. You see, the older one.. is Gendry's .. and mine."  
Bran shivered, Melisandre revealed him how she seduced the blacksmith.  
"Melisandre! You stole more than blood from him, it wasn't fair. Are you going to tell him?"  
"I'd prefer not."  
"I'd prefer yes, for my sister's sake and mine, she'd kill me at the idea I was wrong."  
"Your precious sister! Well, if you insist, I'll come to Winterfell with my son. But I won't tell Gendry he's sterile now. My vial had an…unpredictable effect."  
"He'll understood when he'll see the white hair streak."  
"Your sister better ask her beloved assassin to shave his head, don't you think?"  
Retuning to reality, to his once peaceful study, Arya was impatient to know; he took a long breath, big trouble looming on the horizon.  
"So? Tell me!"  
"The gods are still debating about your child. I could not…"  
"Bran, you're always right, don't…"  
A knock at the door and a man asked to be admitted.  
"Lovely girl, a raven with a red ribbon arrived for Lady Baratheon. You have to read it, urgently."  
She smirked at Jaquen's use of her married name, if only Bran heard how they called each other when alone.  
"Who sent it?"  
"Melisandre's handwriting."  
Bran pushed the wheelchair away from the desk and the couple, his ascetic life was put at test every time the faceless duo was together.  
He swore the powerful attraction they shared was visible to the naked eye, so strong the vibes were; it was a miracle Arya's moon tea got the designed effect. But Arya was happy and her men never had a fight or a discussion.  
"Sister, prepare two rooms, Melisandre brings a guest. Jaqen, have you ever considered a change of hairstyle?"


End file.
